Fatherhood
by CrimsonMagi94
Summary: The first time a father holds their child is always a little frightening. But never has a father said that that moment was never perfect.


Fatherhood

Tiny.

That was the first thought that crossed Kratos' mind as he stared at the body swaddled tightly in soft blankets, resting quietly in his arms. Tiny arms, tiny legs, so tiny, so _fragile_, and goddess, just holding this tiny creature was frazzling his already frayed nerves.

A hand came to rest on his arm and he turned to gaze to his wife, Anna, who was lying on the bed beside him, brown hair splayed across the pillow and blankets pulled up to her chest. She gave him an encouraging smile despite her exhaustion, eyes heavily lidded as sleep threatened to take her. Kratos mentally berated himself for letting Anna see his nervousness. She had been through enough today, and she didn't need the added burden of worrying about her husband.

"You won't hurt him, you know," she said softly, reassuringly.

He nodded, not quite trusting his voice at the moment and feeling foolish for it. He was a Seraphim for Martel's sake, he should not be this nervous.

The little bundle in his arms wriggled a bit, drawing his attention once more. The infant's eyes were not open, they wouldn't be for some time, but it was clear the little newborn had woken. A tiny mouth opened in a yawn, one petite arm peeping out through the cloth while small, searching fingers grasping at empty air. Anna reached over and gently wrapped her fingers around the boy's impossibly tiny hand, and the newborn stilled in acquiesce as his fingers curled around his mother's finger.

"He needs a name," she whispered, a serene smile on her face as she gazed at her infant's face. If only he felt half as tranquil as she did.

"Do you . . . have any in mind?" he asked her, but his voice was mildly distant as a good portion of his focus was on_ not_ hurting his newborn son. He knew the fear and the very notion of it was ridiculous and irrational, absurd even, but ever since he had caved into Anna's pleas for him to hold the child, he couldn't forget the knowledge of how small and helpless this baby was and how so very strong he was in comparison. So strong he could very easily kill the boy in his arms, and the mere thought made his blood run cold.

"Kratos," Anna's voice mercifully brought him back to the present and away from his morbid thoughts, and by the way the corners of her mouth were turned, he knew she had already guessed the reason for his disquiet. She had always been a very perceptive woman.

"I told you, you won't hurt him," she pushed, looking at him with deep and earnest eyes.

"I know Anna. It is just . . ." he didn't know how to finish that sentence.

A smile of understanding crossed her lips, "You're scared of your own strength. You know, the midwife told me that most new fathers feel that way."

"But I am not like most fathers. I run a greater risk of hurting him and you, being what I am. I could hardly be the father he deserves," Kratos said, a sullen tone creeping into his voice.

"Says you!" A spark of passion suddenly lit Anna's brown eyes with a fiery luster, her usual self showing through despite her exhaustion, "Just because you are who you are doesn't mean you can't be a father Kratos. In fact, I couldn't think of a better man to be one! If I didn't, I wouldn't have put up with you at all these years, and you know it. So don't think for a second you won't make a good father."

She suddenly slumped back against the pillows, her outburst having sucked out the last of her strength.

"Anna?" he asked, concerned at her sudden limpness.

"Fine. Just . . . very tired," she said, voice strained. But that did not stop her from turning and locking her eyes with his, "But don't forget what I said, got it?"

Kratos blinked at her in surprise and slight puzzlement before a rare, barely there smile twitched the corners of his lips, "You always were such an idealist Anna."

"That's not an 'I promise, my darling Anna, that I will take your words to heart and I will not doubt myself again'. Come on, let's hear it," she said.

Another faint smile, "I promise."

"Hmph, good enough I guess. Now, I think it's time we think of a name," Anna said, her attention almost instantly shifting back to the bundle in his arms, face softening into one of maternal fondness.

Kratos, too, returned his attention to the fragile bundle nestled there, noticing that the infant had found his thumb and was sucking vigorously, something he knew many families considered cute. He had to admit, it . . . was, in a way.

"You should name him," Anna's sudden declaration caught Kratos off guard, and he turned to Anna in quiet surprise, "Me? Why me? You are the one who has done all the work of bringing him into this world, if anyone has the right to name him, it would be you."

"And if it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't be here at all, Kratos. I want you to name him," was her persistent response.

He wanted to argue against the idea, but the look in Anna's eyes stopped him, ". . . very well."

Anna smiled, happy at having gotten her way, and proceeded to hold her child's tiny hand as she waited for Kratos to speak.

A name. What would be a good name? He frowned when he realized he was somewhat at a loss, and why wouldn't he be? He had never done something like this before.

Kratos glanced down to the tiny face surrounded by swaddling blankets, and again he found himself drawn deeper into thoughts of just how _small_ he was. So fragile. So helpless.

His son.

He recalled a faint memory from his past, during a time of innocence and youth, where he remembered reading a storybook. It was a simple child's tale, one where a noble knight came and saved a beautiful maiden from certain demise, and in the end they settled down and had a family together. It was a tale, he noted, that was similar to his and Anna's story. While they may not have settled down like the maiden and the knight, a portion of the tale he could never foresee happening, they had started a real family together. The proof was in his arms at this very moment.

The tiny child would not grow up like most normal boys would, for he would always be on the run, with hardly the time to make real friends. Although he knew it certainly wouldn't stop Anna from trying, he would have to learn how to fight and defend himself like Anna had.

But that was in the future. Here, right now, he was just a tiny little infant, dependent on his parents.

_He is so small, _he thought.

"He may be small now, but one day he'll grow up into a strong warrior."

He blinked when he realized it was Anna who had spoken, and then realized he had actually spoken his thoughts aloud, something that rarely happened.

"A warrior . . ." he mused as he stared at the tiny face. It was . . . hard to imagine.

"Lloyd," he whispered.

"Hm?" Anna questioned, not having heard him.

"His name will be Lloyd," he repeated.

"Lloyd," Anna said, testing the way it rolled off of her tongue. Then she smiled, "I like it. Lloyd Aurion. Has a nice ring to it."

She yawned, pulling the blankets a little further up her chest as her eyes started to slip shut, "Lloyd . . ."

It was only moments later that Kratos heard her breathing even out and knew she was asleep. That was good. She needed it.

With Anna asleep, Kratos turned to look at the newly named Lloyd and found the baby had dropped off some time ago as well.

Lloyd. His son.

Feeling bolder than before, Kratos shifted the tiny body's weight to one arm and carefully brushed the baby's forehead with ungloved fingers. The skin was warm and soft.

Kratos blinked in surprise when the boy's tiny hand latched onto his own larger one, impossibly tiny fingers holding on with more strength than his little body would have initially implied, and Kratos felt another faint smile appear on his face. He very, very gently brushed his thumb over Lloyd's tiny knuckles and felt his initial nervousness of holding his son slowly but surely abating into nothing. Indeed, a part of him wondered why he had been so nervous to begin with.

Yes, one day little Lloyd may very well be a strong, brave warrior.

But for now, he was just a tiny newborn holding onto his father's finger, and Kratos found he couldn't have been more content.


End file.
